


ValenTáin's Day

by SenEolas



Series: Group Chats of the Ulster Cycle [3]
Category: Táin Bó Cúailnge, Ulster Cycle
Genre: Background Conall/Lendabair, Background Dee/Naoise, Background Fergus being Fergus as usual, Experimentation, M/M, Platonic Kissing, Valentine's Day, everyone continues to be surprised that Naoise is straight, group chats of the ulster cycle, remscél to In Loco Parentis, well it's mostly platonic anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22742914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenEolas/pseuds/SenEolas
Summary: Valentine's Day, approx. seven months before the start of 'In Loco Parentis'. Dee and Naoise are on their third date. Conall and Lendabair are having a quiet night in with ice cream and bad films. Fergus is... being Fergus (it's best not to inquire too closely). And Láeg and Cormac? They're in the pub. Making fun of everyone else.
Relationships: Cormac Connlonges / Láeg mac Riangabra
Series: Group Chats of the Ulster Cycle [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1368382
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13





	ValenTáin's Day

**Author's Note:**

> Expectation: a short, fluffy fic featuring a pairing absolutely nobody asked for  
> Reality: nearly 4k words featuring some angst (why is Cormac always sad?!) that barely manages to be anything more than platonic
> 
> Why am I like this. 
> 
> Also I'm really sorry about the title. It's bad, I know.

It wasn’t the first time Fergus had bailed on them, but it was one of his less plausible excuses.

“He has ‘work to do’,” said Cormac, air quotes emphatic enough to make it clear he’d already had a drink or two before Láeg made it to the pub. “Work, in this instance, being that girl who works in the café of the archaeology museum, based on the fact he hasn’t shut up about her this week.”

“How dare he,” said Láeg. “And on Valentine’s Day. Breaking the sacred pact.”

“The _pact_ ,” agreed Cormac, and took another overlarge swig of whatever vile concoction he’d ordered. Judging by his minute flinch as he swallowed, it was stronger than he’d anticipated.

Láeg ordered a beer, because he was boring like that, and also because he had a mountain of work waiting for him at home that, while it might be improved by slight inebriation, would not actually be manageable if he got completely trashed. “Well, forget him, he’s a traitor. How are you?”

“Oh, you know. Suffering a surfeit of singleness. As usual.” Cormac looked momentarily downcast, then grinned. “Have you seen Naoise recently?”

“Not since our last session.” When Naoise’s character had made some deeply questionable choices and some _very_ bad rolls, and died an ignoble and pathetic death as a result. His new character, judging by the last ten minutes of the game, was likely to go the same way if things didn’t start coming together soon. “Why?”

“He’s in love. And,” Cormac added, leaning forward, “it’s sickening. But in a weirdly adorable way. I’m not sure whether I should be gagging or cheering them on.”

“Huh.” Láeg considered this. “Have you met them, then? Him? Her?” he added doubtfully.

“Her. _Deirdre._ ” Cormac articulated the name with care, and then laughed at the look on Láeg’s face. “I know, right? _Such_ an old lady name. Who the hell calls their daughter _Deirdre_? It’s just so… ugh, depressing. Naoise calls her ‘Dee’, which is only marginally better. She does international relations, so I’ve seen her around the department. No idea how Naoise met her.”

Láeg wasn’t sure how to explain that he hadn’t been taken aback by the name, but by the discovery that Naoise was not, in fact, as extremely gay as he’d always assumed. “I didn’t know Naoise was bi,” he said.

“Oh, he’s not,” said Cormac, not blinking an eye at the remark. “He’s like, astonishingly straight. It’s _hilarious_. I don’t know how it happened. We double-checked and he’s definitely related to us. I guess every family has a straight cousin.”

“Naoise’s straight? Huh.” Láeg stared into his drink. “Well, godspeed to him.”

Cormac toasted that with his glass and drained it. “Right,” he said, looking at the empty drink. “I reckon that’s me done. You’re already going fuzzy at the edges. I’m gonna go order something to eat.”

“Get me some chips!” Láeg called after him, watching his friend weave through the various couples having a drink together before heading out to more romantic locations. Cormac gave him the finger. He wasn’t sure if that was agreement or not.

The Sacred Pact of Valentine’s Day wasn’t really particularly sacred, but it was a tradition they’d fallen into that had somehow persisted. Given that he and Cormac were more or less permanently single – something that bothered Cormac more than it bothered him – and Fergus seemed incapable of holding down a relationship for more than a month or so, the day usually rolled around to find them all partner-free and ready to drink. To be fair, they could have ignored it entirely, but after the first time it had fallen on one of their regular pub nights and they’d spent it together making fun of all the couples they knew and getting increasingly inebriated, they’d found it was more fun to have an anti-Valentines.

It was a shame that Fergus had ditched them. He provided endless fuel for mockery, given that he had _so many_ terrible breakup stories that he thought they didn’t know about. Láeg didn’t know how to explain to him that he was basically a campus legend at this point and that almost all details of his romantic failures got broadcasted around the student body within a day or two of occurring.

He still went on more dates than the rest of them put together, though, so he was succeeding at something.

Cormac was taking a long time to get back from the bar. Láeg took out his phone, flipping through a handful of unimportant messages and a reminder about the LGBT+ Society’s upcoming AGM (fuck. He hadn’t finished the accounts yet) until he found the group chat he was looking for.

Cells & Serpents

Láeg: _happy Valentine’s Day anyone in a relationship is Not Valid today sorry I don’t make the rules_

Conall: _rude_

Fergus: _how are we defining relationship here_

Láeg: _Fergus you’re never valid_

Naoise: _Does it count if you’ve been on two dates? Arguably three._

Láeg: _depends, is one of them happening right now_

Naoise: … _Yes._

Láeg: _unquestionably then. sorry Naoise you have also been exiled to the Land of Invalidity_

Cormac: _fuck yeah validation this is all I want_

Conall: _cormac keep ur daddy issues out of the chat_

Cormac: _fuck you_

Láeg: _be nice_

Conall: _why should we be nice you said we’re not valid you’ve activated Mean Conall_

Láeg: _why are you even texting me aren’t you with Lendabair right now_

Conall: _she went out to buy ben & jerry’s  
_Conall: _we’re having an ice cream and movie kind of valentines because we are secure enough in our relationship not to need to buy into the commercialism_

Fergus: _sickening_

Cormac: _didn’t you only make it official like three weeks ago_

Conall: _shut up i don’t need your commentary_

Naoise: _What flavour ice cream?_

Conall: _fish food_

Láeg: _the only valid thing you’ve done all evening_

Cormac reappeared just as he was beginning to wonder if his friend had got lost in the pub somewhere. “So there was a bit of a queue,” he said. “And also I might have tried to give my order to the wrong person. And by the wrong person I mean a drinks machine. I might be more drunk than I thought I was. I kind of… had a few cocktails before you got here. And a couple of shots.”

“For fuck’s sake, Cormac.”

“It has been a _day_ , Láeg.” He slipped back into his seat, clutching his glass of water as though it represented salvation. “ _Ugh,_ there were a couple of undergrads in the common room earlier and one of them seemed upset so I asked them what was wrong and they told me to piss off, so I asked someone else why they were mad at me and they said it’s my dad. Again. I wish people didn’t think just because he’s my dad I’m on his side, you know? I wish they could talk to me. Maybe I could help. But no they’re just like ‘fuck off Cormac, your family’s done enough damage,’ and like, it’s not _fair_ , I’m not _him_.”

Láeg gave his friend’s hand an encouraging squeeze. “You definitely aren’t him.”

“If they talked to me, maybe I could do something. I don’t know _what_ , but… nobody speaks up. Nobody reports him. It’s never going to change. As long as it remains an unspoken rule of the department that if you’re a girl then at some point in your undergraduate career you _are_ going to have to deal with him being a creep and it’s best just to laugh it off and move on, nothing’s going to get better.” He took a few hasty gulps of his water. “Sorry. I’m pissed. I wouldn’t be talking about this if I wasn’t. I usually try not to think about it.”

“I know. Want to talk about something else?”

“Sure.” Cormac’s expression brightened as their food arrived – a bowl of chips for Láeg, a burger for him. “Tell me about the baby gays. Any cute relationship drama?”

“Oh, man,” said Láeg, biting into the first of his chips. “ _So_ much. All the time. Most of which would be solved by them actually talking to each other, but they’re eighteen, so of course they don’t fucking talk to each other. The ones I love are the oblivious ones where I get both people coming to me telling me about their crush and how the other person will never like them back. I want to tell them how wrong they are but I can’t break their trust like that so I just drop extremely heavy hints and hope they get the hang of it eventually.”

“Adorable.”

“One of them finally had a breakthrough last week, which is good, because I was about to stage an intervention. They’d already kissed and she was still wondering whether the other girl actually liked her or whether it was platonic. Sometimes I can’t believe how useless they are.”

“It’s an important part of the mating ritual for lesbians,” said Cormac sagely. “Brush hands. Lock eyes. Make out. Spend three weeks overanalysing whether this is actually just a close friendship. Eventually figure out they like you two months later when they publicly mention that it’s your anniversary and you realise they thought you were in a relationship this whole time.”

Láeg laughed. “Honestly, it seems like that sometimes.”

“To be fair, the baby gays aren’t much better.”

“What about the jaded old gays like ourselves?”

Cormac pondered this as he ate his burger. The combination of food and hydration seemed to be sobering him up fairly rapidly, which was a good thing, since it meant Láeg probably wouldn’t have to carry him home. “We skip right past the crush stage,” he said, “and into the inevitability stage. Or hadn’t you noticed that literally everyone in the LGBT soc has dated at some point? If they haven’t dated each other they’ve got mutual exes. It’s incestuous as anything.”

“Fiachra hasn’t dated anyone.”

“Fiachra is _extremely_ ace/aro, he’s immune to this particular peril. Although,” he added thoughtfully, “I heard a rumour he made out with one of the girls in first year when he was still trying to figure out if he was interested in kissing, so he’s probably still on the diagram somewhere.”

“The diagram?” asked Láeg.

“It’s a hypothetical diagram.” Cormac put down his burger and gestured as though drawing said diagram in thin air. “A map of how everyone’s connected. One day someone should draw it, but that means putting down on paper that Finnabair cheated on her girlfriend and even though literally everyone knows about that, I still think it’s asking for trouble to be the one to write it down.”

Láeg thought about this, trying to imagine his own place in the diagram. His interest in relationships came and went, and seemed to spend more time gone than it spent present, which was fine by him. It meant that he probably only had one or two connections of his own, relegating him to the margins of the diagram – especially as one of his short-lived relationships had been with someone who adamantly wasn’t a member of the LGBT society.

He said, “Not _everyone’s_ dated everyone else.”

Cormac picked up his burger again. “Not everyone,” he admitted. “But most people. You’re the exception who proves the rule.”

Láeg’s chips were almost gone. He swirled one of the remaining pieces around in the salt at the bottom of the bowl and said, “Did you and Fergus ever date? I know he primarily likes girls, but…”

Cormac laughed. “Thank god, no. I think we made out once, but we were both pretty drunk, so neither of us entirely remembers what went down. Other than that, the world’s been spared that particular brand of chaos.”

Láeg made the mistake of momentarily imagining what might happen if Fergus and Cormac actually did have a relationship and immediately felt the need for another drink. “Right,” he said. “Forget I asked.”

Cells & Serpents

Naoise: _Does anyone here know how to be romantic like a normal person? Fergus do not interact._

Fergus: _well fuck you very much_

Conall: _what do you need_

Naoise: _I just. don’t know how to do this. We’re at a fancy restaurant, which is already a step up from our previous dates. Do I offer to pay? I don’t actually know if I can afford to cover both of us. And Dee made some comment about going back to hers afterwards, which is GREAT but also this is only our third date and I’m a little bit !!!  
_Naoise: _Am I being ridiculous?_

Láeg: _no, but I feel like step one should be putting your phone away_

Naoise: _It’s okay, Dee went to the loo. I probably only have a couple of minutes though_

Conall: _okay firstly you’re adorable secondly why don’t you just tell her you really like her but things are moving kind of fast. also be honest with her about the bill. it’s the 21 st century you don’t gotta pay for all of it_

Cormac: _yeah, that’s just straight people being weird_

Naoise: _Don’t you think she’ll get mad? I mean, it’s Valentine’s Day…_

Láeg: _if she gets mad about it she’s not worth your time_

Conall: _truth  
_Conall: _you could go back to hers and eat ice cream and watch movies  
_Conall: _would highly recommend as an activity_

Naoise: … _That sounds great, honestly._

Láeg: _you just have to talk to her, Naoise. ~communicate~_

“Maybe it’s not just the baby gays,” he said to Cormac, looking up from his phone. “Maybe it’s just undergrads in general. Maybe they’re all like this.”

“I’m sure you were like that once,” said Cormac, sounding unconvinced.

“Please, I don’t date anyone unless I’ve known them for like three years already, by which point I’ve probably already overshared all my feelings with them anyway and there’s no point hiding anything. It gives me a level of protection against this kind of bullshit.”

He looked back at the chat.

Cells & Serpents

Conall: _also like ice cream and movies CAN turn into fucking but it doesn’t have to if you’re not ready for that  
_Conall: _you’re still a baby naoise just take all the time you need_

Naoise: _I’m nineteen._

Conall: _you’ll always be a baby to me_

Naoise: _Why are you LIKE this?_

Cormac: _it’s genetic and incurable, there’s nothing we can do. very tragic really_

Conall: _… cormac we’re related_

Cormac: _so_

Conall: _so anything wrong with me is also wrong with you_

Cormac: _oh well I never disputed that_

Láeg: _Naoise, if she’s not back from the bathroom yet she’s probably hiding from you, sorry_

Naoise: _No, I can see her, she’s on her way._

Fergus: _GOOD LUCK YOU HORRIBLE CHILD_

The dot next to Naoise’s icon turned from green to grey, and the chat went quiet. Láeg looked back at Cormac. “Do you think that fulfils our ‘mock all the couples we know’ quotient?”

Cormac hesitated. “In a hurry?” he said.

“Not particularly, but the pub’s filling up…” He paused, scrutinising his friend’s expression. “What’s wrong?”

“Just don’t really want to go home yet. Dad will inevitably be there and I… don’t really want to face him right now.”

“Ah.” One of these days, the tension between Cormac and his dad was going to turn into something more, because one of these days, they were actually going to have to talk about it. If they didn’t take the initiative themselves, something would happen to force their hands. Láeg didn’t look forward to the fallout when it did. “Come back to mine,” he said, instead of voicing these thoughts. “I’ll shove the laundry out the way and there’s just about room for you. My housemates are chill, they won’t care.”

Cormac looked torn, but finally he said, “You’re sure?”

“Positive. I mean, we’ll have to take the bus home because I didn’t want to drive in case I was drinking, but as long as you don’t mind that…”

His friend shook his head. “I don’t mind.”

Láeg was already pulling on his jacket. The noise levels in the pub – which was usually fairly quiet, being tucked away on a street off the main student circuit _and_ away from the popular townie spots – were beginning to rise to the point of being uncomfortable, and he just wanted to go home.

Cormac retrieved his rucksack from under the table and together they pushed their way through the crowds and into the cold February air.

It wasn’t far to the bus stop, but Láeg wasn’t really dressed for the weather, and he was shivering by the time they got there. Fortunately, they hadn’t been there more than a minute or two before a bus came crawling around the corner. It was busy, but they managed to squeeze on, wedging themselves behind a large party of undergrads on their way to some event or another.

They didn’t speak much on the journey, but as they were walking up the path to Láeg’s house, Cormac said, “Thanks for doing this.”

“It’s nothing. I’ve crashed at yours enough times.”

“I know, but… I mean. It feels like you’re constantly picking me up when I’m struggling. You’re a good friend.”

Láeg focused on getting his key into the lock so that he didn’t have to look at Cormac. “And you’re still drunk, clearly.”

“Why don’t you like being complimented?” his friend asked. “Every time I try and say something nice to you, you just retreat inside yourself.”

“Because I don’t think letting your friend crash on your floor so that they can avoid their shitty father is a particularly remarkable thing to do. It’s like, bare minimum of what you should do for your best friends.” Inside the house, Láeg hung his jacket on the usual hook. Most of the pegs were empty, suggesting his housemates weren’t around (or that he’d find their jackets and coats strewn across the sofa later). He kicked off his shoes and headed straight for his room.

Cormac followed. He said nothing as he watched Láeg pull the laundry from the airer and shove it haphazardly into drawers, shoving aside boxes and bags to clear space, but when Láeg sat heavily down on the bed, he followed.

“I mean it,” he said. “You’re a good friend.”

Láeg, finally, looked at him. He didn’t know how to articulate his thoughts, which were a swirling mess of feeling inadequate for all the ways he couldn’t fix anything, no matter how hard he tried. Cormac would tell him it wasn’t his fault, which was true. If he asked the others, they’d probably say the same thing. And he knew that, but it didn’t change anything. Maybe part of it was that he wanted them to _need_ him – and if he couldn’t fix their problems, then they’d look for help elsewhere. Someone had once told him he was one of nature’s sidekicks and while he knew they were intending to insult him, he couldn’t help suspecting it was true. He never wanted to be in the limelight, but he wanted to be the person others could rely on, the one who fixed things and comforted people and did what he could to support them.

Instead he just leaned his head on Cormac’s shoulder. “I wish I could do more,” he said.

“I know. But this is enough.”

They sat like that for a long time. Eventually Láeg got up to close the blinds and turned back to find Cormac looking speculatively at him. “What?” he asked.

“ _We_ ’ve never made out.”

Láeg raised his eyebrow. “Are you still drunk? Because I’m not having this conversation with you if you’re still drunk.”

“Painfully, inevitably sober,” said Cormac, holding his hands up as though defending himself. “You don’t kiss a lot of people do you?”

“Not really.” It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about which of his friends he’d make out with, if given the opportunity, and okay, Cormac was substantially higher up the list than Fergus, and he’d never been able to figure out what Conall’s deal was. But those opportunities never presented themselves, and he wasn’t the kind of person to go seeking them out. “Are you trying to say that you want to kiss me, or are you just sad and lonely and trying to distract yourself from your dad’s shittiness?”

Cormac regarded him, as though thinking hard about this. Finally, he said, in a tone that expressed some surprise, “I think I actually want to kiss you.”

Láeg tried not to be offended by the apparent disbelief in his tone. “Why?”

“Because you’re … you. You’re nice. You’re always _there_ when I need you. And you have a nice face. Has anyone ever told you that you’ve got a nice face?”

He folded his arms. “You were lying about being sober, weren’t you?”

“No,” objected Cormac. “I’m allowed to compliment you without being drunk. I mean, it’s a pity you’re so ginger, but, you know, you can’t have everything.”

 _That_ was the Cormac he knew. Láeg felt a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Okay,” he said.

“And also, you know,” Cormac carried on, “I think it’s important to every friendship to make out at least once, and that way you don’t end up with unresolved sexual tension, because you already know if you’re interested. Wait, did you say _okay_?”

Láeg nodded. “Okay,” he repeated, and while his friend was still processing this, he leaned forward and kissed him.

Cormac’s lips were soft. Caught by surprise, it took him a moment to respond, but when he did, he was an unexpectedly good kisser, perpetual singledom notwithstanding. Better than Láeg, that much was apparent, and he took the lead, deepening the kiss. Somehow his hands were on Láeg, slipping under the hem of his jumper, shockingly cold against the bare skin. Láeg let himself be pushed onto his back, Cormac above him, the kiss more urgent now.

Finally they broke apart and his friend rolled to lie next to him, staring up at the ceiling.

“Huh,” said Cormac thoughtfully.

Láeg hummed in agreement.

“That was…” Cormac trailed off, searching for the right adjective.

“Nice,” finished Láeg.

Cormac laughed, sighed, and rolled over to face him. “Yes, it was, wasn’t it? _Nice._ ” It was simultaneously a positive and also a damning indictment of the whole thing, which made it to the only appropriate choice of word.

“You’re a good kisser,” Láeg told him, “but I’m not actually attracted to you.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” said Cormac cheerfully. “Glad we figured that one out.” He curled up against Láeg. “You’re nice and warm. All right with you if we just stay here for a while?”

Láeg extricated his arm so that he could put it around his friend, and pulled him closer. “More than all right,” he said.

He meant to get up, change into nightclothes, find the sleeping bag for Cormac. But somehow ‘a while’ turned into sleep, soft and grey, and to waking together in the morning as light crept through the gaps in his blind and pulled them into a new day, still curled safe in each other’s arms.

And, well, it may not have been intentional, but neither of them was complaining.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a remscél (foretale/prequel) to [In Loco Parentis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17215583/chapters/40482119) and also [Getting The Dee](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20329633/chapters/48202048).


End file.
